Communication Breakdown
by jkwhedon1919
Summary: Sometimes, a deal with the king of Hell was just the price you paid to keep your friends safe. Coda to 6x20.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

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He wasn't lying when he told Dean he was sorry.

He was sorry. For a lot of things. For lying to him. For working with a demon. For forgetting Sam's soul in Hell. For not realizing that he forgot Sam's soul in Hell. There were many, many things to atone for, and maybe one day, Dean would be willing to hear about them.

But Dean Winchester wasn't in the mood to listen, and Castiel didn't have time to wait.

He didn't have time to be sitting on a bench in the middle of the Betty Ford Alpine Gardens either, but, somehow, that's where he had ended up.

Castiel had never really given much thought to what he would say when the Winchesters found out about his deal with Crowley. He knew what he was doing was wrong. Consorting with hell spawn was sacrilegious. But, then again, he had done it before. Castiel and the Winchesters had made a deal with Crowley to find Death after all, and ultimately, they had succeeded. And when Castiel died, God had brought him back. If his father could forgive working with a demon to stop the Apocalypse, then surely he could understand working with the same demon to avert another one.

At least, Castiel hoped he could. That's why he was here. He had long ago adopted the human tradition of looking to the sky when he prayed to his father. He knew God wasn't in Heaven, but sometimes he pretended anyway. And after all, Joshua was the only one who talked to God, and he was almost surely in the Garden, so technically, by directing his prayers to the skies, Castiel was talking to his father, albeit indirectly.

Crowley was close to finding Purgatory; Castiel knew that. Gaining Moishe Campbell's journal was the break they needed. Anthony Westborough had witnessed a creature of Purgatory on Earth. Once they found it, they'd be able to open the door themselves, and then, his business with the king of Hell would be done and he'd have what he needed.

Souls. That's what everyone said. That it had only ever been about the souls. They talked about power and nuclear reactors and implosions as if Castiel was Oedipus. They preached of monsters roaming the earth and chaos in the streets as if he was child with a box of matches in a village of wooden huts.

In reality, Castiel was David. He was battling Goliath, and he needed a sling shot.

Once upon a time, Castiel had wanted to lead Heaven. He had been prideful and he had been stupid and he had believed whole-heartedly in the gospel of Free Will and Choice. But that had been almost two years ago, and now, now Castiel was just trying to keep his friends alive.

Dean wanted to believe that there was a way out for everyone. What had he said? That they would deal with it? Three humans and a mediocre seraph couldn't just deal with a tyrannical archangel. They couldn't just deal with a civil war, and they couldn't just deal with another apocalypse- not when the last one had cost them so many lives.

Perhaps if Castiel had just explained all that at the beginning. If he had just went to Dean like he wanted to, if he had just told him the stakes, then maybe the Winchesters would understand now. But it was too late. In sparing Dean the agony of another gory war, another lost loved one, another stint as Heaven's most wanted, Castiel had committed an unforgiveable sin: he had lied to Dean Winchester.

And he was sorry. He should have told them. He should have made Dean understand that day in the yard. He should have checked on Sam after he'd pulled him from the pit. He should have explained, and they should have listened. But now, they were angry and he was desperate.

Even so, if there was a way to beat Raphael without opening Purgatory, he would take it. Damn Crowley and his agreement. He'd do just about anything to have the Winchesters on his side again.

But he wouldn't let them die to see it happen.

Dean had said they were like family. Castiel knew what family meant to Sam and Dean. He knew the kind of trust and loyalty that accompanied such a statement and he was honored. Before he meant the Winchesters, "family" had been synonymous with obedience and militancy and righteousness. Castiel's brothers and sisters were legion, but most were strangers. So, Castiel could never call the Winchesters family because they were so much more than that. They were friends.

And they could be angry at him, and they could hunt him, and they could do everything in their power to stop him from opening that door and taking those souls. He would play the part of the stoic angel, of the power-hungry megalomaniac if that was what was required. If that was what kept them safe. They may never forgive him, but at least they'd be alive.

He was sorry. He was so sorry. And he wished that they could be patient enough to sit down and hear his story and understand just how sorry he was. But Dean was hurt and he was stubborn and even Castiel knew a lost cause when he saw it.

So, here he was, sitting on a bench in Colorado. If the Winchesters wouldn't hear him out, then there was only one last being in all of Creation whose opinion Castiel cared about. God wouldn't meet him, wouldn't talk to him anyway, so for now, Castiel will talk. And his father would just have to listen.


End file.
